


Little Things

by Archer973



Category: Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer973/pseuds/Archer973
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack helps Riddick enjoy the little things in life</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> So, there are so many depressing Riddick/Jack fics on here that I decided to write a happy one. This will be a collection of one-shots about how Jack helps Riddick enjoy the little things in life. These will not be in any kind of chronological order, just kind of how they come to me and what I feel like writing about at any given moment. I will always try to tell you Jack's approximate age and the general setting beforehand. In this one Jack is about 16 and she and Riddick are living together in an apartment.

"Riddick?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"How old are you?"

"What?"

"How old are you?" Jack repeated, rolling her eyes at the mass murderer sitting across the table from her.

"I don't know," Riddick said, shrugging his massive shoulders and returning his attention to the bowl of stew in front of him.

"How can you not know?" Jack asked, half-convinced he just didn't want to tell her because he was forty or something ancient like that.

"Cryo fucks with people's age, you know that," Riddick replied, looking at her like she was an idiot. Jack mentally smacked herself upside the head. She'd forgotten how long Riddick had actually spent in cryo tubes, not to mention in prison, where she bet birthdays weren't exactly a big deal.

"Well do you know what year you were born in?" Jack asked.

"Nope," Riddick said, shaking his head briefly. "Why the sudden interest, kid?"

"Just curious," Jack replied, shrugging her shoulders. The meal continued in a companionable silence, but internally Jack's mind was churning. She was the type of person that, once she thought of a question, she couldn't rest until it was answered. Now Riddick's age, or lack thereof, was bugging her. It was like a loose tooth she just couldn't help herself from playing with. There would be no relief until she yanked the tooth out by finding the answer to her question.

Jack settled herself in front of the computer and turned on the monitor. The machine itself was out of date, but Jack had personally redone the interior so it ran faster than even the most modern machines. And it was equipped with some of the best hacking programs on the black market, a few of which Jack herself had designed.

Hacking into the intergalactic police database was easy. A few keystrokes later Jack had Riddick's entire file pulled up in front of her. Ignoring the rap sheet of crimes, she looked at the biological information. They had everything from his original eye color (dark grey) to the types of clothes he liked to wear, but under age is simply read 'unable to be calculated.' Jack scowled at the computer screen. How could the police not know his age?

Well, looks like I'm going to have to do this the hard way, Jack grumbled to herself, pulling up all the news stories on Riddick. She ignored the blaring headlines shouting his crimes and instead looked farther back. The earliest entry was a short paragraph concerning a foster home that had gotten shut down because of child abuse. The only reason the story made the news at all was because the guy who was accused turned out to be the cousin-in-law of some second-rate politician on Earth. Richard Riddick was one of the five children take from the home. It said he was taken to the hospital with multiple broken bones and some internal bleeding. The article was dated March15, 1997.

Jack switched over to the medical records. She found the report that corresponded with the article. Scanning through it, Jack felt sick. Riddick had suffered thirty-two broken bones over the course of his life and obviously many beatings.

One of the doctor's comments caught Jack's eye. Dr. Flynn wrote: 'The other children are extremely fearful, especially of males. Richard, however, is not. Indeed, when I visit him he simply stares at me, as if he's trying to peel my skin away and figure out what makes me tick. It is very eerie.'

Dr. Flynn's blood work showed Riddick was about four year old, which meant he had been born in 1993. That made him thirty years old this year. So now in order to find out what his developmental age was all she had to do was add up all the time he spent in cryo and subtract it from his natural age.

That turned out easier said than done. Jack had known Riddick had spent a lot of time in cryo, but she never realized exactly how much and how far it was spread out, between transports to different slams and all the time he had spent on the run. Finally, using a combination of his prison records, rap sheet, and reports of sightings of him, Jack was able to determine that he had been in cryo for a total of about five years.

Now that is a fucking long time, Jack thought to herself, looking over her calculations again to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. Nope, the numbers were sound. So, technically, Riddick was twenty-five years old.

He's a lot younger than I thought he was, Jack thought to herself as she powered down the unit. I wonder if he even knows how long he was in cryo. Probably not. Though he was awake for all of it. Wow. Five years being trapped in a stasis tube with only your mind for company. I'd go crazy.

Jack contemplated that fate as she changed and snuggled into bed. Turning off the light, she stared at the ceiling, thinking about Riddick. The one thing she hadn't been able to find was his actual birthday.

I wonder if he's ever had a birthday party, Jack suddenly thought. She'd spent most of her life on the streets, but she did have faint memories of a birthday cake, candles, and her parents' smiling faces. They had died just after she turned five, so that must have been her fifth birthday. She couldn't remember much, just the overwhelming love she had felt as her parents brought out the cake and sang to her, celebrating the day she had come into this world. It showed her how precious she was to them.

Smiling slightly to herself, Jack drifted off to sleep, a plan forming in her mind.

Richard B. Riddick prided himself on never being surprised by anything. He was an adept study of the human psyche and could read people as if they were open books. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken him by surprise.

That, however, was before he met Jack. Right out of the box that girl had been surprise after surprise. She was volatile and impulsive and had a wild imagination. She was prone to doing spur of the moment things. You'd think after a year of living with her Riddick would have gotten better at reading her and figuring out what she was going to do. But the evidence to the contrary of this was sitting on the table in front of him as he walked into the kitchen two days later.

"What the hell is this, kid?" Riddick asked, staring at slightly scorched-looking cake covered in vibrant ribbons of frosting sitting on the table.

"Happy birthday, Riddick!" Jack yelled, beaming at the hulking man as she bounded around the table and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "I made you a cake!"

"I can see that," Riddick rumbled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked more closely at the confection sitting on the table and saw that the icing sloppily formed the words: "HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY RIDDICK!" The last part of his name was squeezed onto the side of the cake where Jack had obviously run out of room on the top.

"Twenty-five, huh?" Riddick asked, chuckling. "I'm glad you think I'm that young, kid, but…"

"I did the math," Jack protested, scowling up at him, clearly miffed he thought she'd just made shit up. "You were born in 1993. You're technically thirty years old, but with the combination of time you spent in cryo going from slam to slam, escaping, traveling, and dodging mercs, your body is actually only twenty-five."

"Damn kid, how'd you figure that out?" Riddick asked, raising his eyebrows, impressed.

"Hacked into the IPD," Jack replied, shrugging. "Used your med file to figure out your natural age, then used the culmination of your rap sheet, prison records, and sightings list to estimate the how long you spent in cryo, altogether. That, I might add, is a fucking difficult thing to do. You're like a goddamn leaf, only staying in one place 'til the next breeze comes along and sweeps you away to somewhere else."

"Damn, kid, you're getting poetic," Riddick said, chuckling as he ruffled Jack's short brown hair, causing her to stick her tongue out at him. But internally he was touched. The kid had gone through a lot of trouble just to figure some small thing out about him. No one had ever given a damn about that kind of shit before.

"So come on, you gonna sit down or what?" Jack asked, pulling on his hand. Smiling indulgently, Riddick sat down in front of his cake and looked at Jack, raising his eyebrows.

"Now what?" he asked, noticing she carried a box of matches in her hand.

"Now I light the candles and sing to you!" Jack said, striking a match and lighting the one lone, slightly sorry looking candle stuck in the center of the cake. Then she flicked a switch, turning off the lights, and began to sing.

Riddick smiled to himself as he listened to her sing the traditional song in a sweet, melodic voice. Jack was grinning like a fool, her eyes alight with joy. It made Riddick grin in return. It'd been a long time since he'd seen her this happy.

"Now blow out the candle and make a wish!" Jack instructed when she had finished. Riddick rolled his eyes at her, then blew out the candle, concentrating on the only thing that he could think of at the moment. Please, let her away stay this happy. Don't ever let me hurt her.

Jack clapped, laughing. Flicking the lights back on, she removed the candle before it could drip any more wax onto the cake. Riddick reached for a knife to cut the cake, but Jack slapped his hand away.

"The birthday boy doesn't cut his own cake," Jack reprimanded, looking at Riddick sternly, her lips twitching with her effort not to smile. Riddick growled at her, which just made her laugh and grin at him. Grabbing two plates, she cut an enormous slice for Riddick and a much more manageable slice for herself.

"Happy birthday, Riddick," she said, toasting him with her fork as she took her first bite of the cake. Riddick followed suit. The cake was slightly dry and tasted rather strongly of salt, while the frosting was lumpy and had so much sugar in it Riddick could feel the granules crunching between his teeth. It was obvious that Jack had made it herself from scratch.

"God, this is disgusting," Jack said, scowling at her plate. "I'm sorry, Riddick, I thought it was going to turn out better than this. Let me go steal a good one from the store, I'll be right back."

"Don't you dare," Riddick growled, grabbing Jack as she went to dart past him and pulling her firmly against him. "This is the best fucking birthday cake I've ever had in my life and if you try to take it away from me I'll bite your fingers off." Jack grinned shyly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling against him. Riddick returned the embrace, briefly burying his face in her hair so he could inhale her scent.

It was as if he could smell it coming off the cake too. He could just picture it, Jack standing in the kitchen, frowning at the recipe, trying to figure out which container was salt and which was sugar, rubbing her nose in concentration and not realizing she had flour all over her hand. It didn't matter what the cake wasn't perfect. He'd eaten way worse things in slam. What mattered was that she actually took the time to make it for him. She had put her heart into that cake, and to Riddick that made it precious.

When they had finished up their portions of the cake (some milk made it slide down the throat easier), Jack quickly cleared away the dished, wrapping the remains of the cake up and sticking it in the cooling unit. Then she turned to Riddick, her face alight with glee.

"Time for presents!" she crowed, running into her bedroom and bounding back out with three wrapped packages in her arms. She set them down in front of Riddick. "Come on, open them! This one first!"

Riddick accepted the bundle she handed him, which was wrapped in what looked like a brown paper bag and some duct tape. Tearing through the paper, his eyebrows shot up when he saw what it was.

A beautiful knife sat in the paper, gleaming at him in the dim light. He picked it up and hefted it, checking the balance. It was almost perfect. The handle fit his hand perfectly. The metal was high quality, but the knife wasn't ornate. The handle was a non-descript black and lacked any elegant tooling. This was a weapon that was meant to be used. It was also very, very expensive.

"Jack…" Riddick said, his voice half question and half warning.

"I didn't pay for it, I swear," Jack hastily assured him. "As a matter of fact, I didn't pay for any of this, so stop your worrying." Riddick knew he should be more worried that she had stolen this stuff, but he couldn't help but feel proud of her. This would not have been easy to nick. The fact that she had braved the danger for him warmed him more than any amount of money could have, even though he was so going to have a talk with her about stealing without telling him.

"This one goes with the knife," Jack said, handing him the next package, wrapped the same way as the first. Riddick opened it and found a sheath for the knife that could easily be attached to either his boot or his belt, wherever he wanted to carry it. The holster was made out of high-quality black leather and fit the knife perfectly.

"Wow, kid, this is awesome," Riddick rumbled, strapping the knife into his boot. "Perfect fit. I've been wanting one of these things forever."

"I know," Jack said, smiling at the convict. Riddick ruffled her hair, returning her smile, letting his eyes show her exactly how much the gift meant to him.

"So, what's in this one?" Riddick asked, picking up the smallest package. He was surprised when Jack blushed.

"It's kinda stupid," she mumbled, looking away from him, the tips of her ears red. Riddick was intrigued and ripped off the paper. Inside lay a small wooden shiv. He stared it, shocked for the second time that night.

"I know it's basically useless, being wood and all," Jack said, her voice slightly higher than normal, like it always did when she was nervous or embarrassed. "But I didn't have enough time make a metal one, and it's okay if you don't like it, it was just kinda a stupid idea, and –"

"Jack," Riddick said, cutting her off. "Shut up." Jack shut up. Riddick lifted the shiv out of the wrappings and looked at it more closely. The wood was pine, the most common wood used by beginners. The carving marks were slightly rough and uneven and it hadn't been sanded so Riddick could feel some of the rough patches where there had been knots in the wood. But for a first shiv, it was damn good work. Riddick felt something rough on the bottom of the hilt.

Turning it, he looked at the words Jack had carved into it: LOVE JACK. The letters were uneven and lopsided and Riddick could see where she had accidently made the bottom line of the L too long so it connected with the O. It was imperfect and flawed, but to Riddick it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Those two words went straight to the heart people said didn't exist and filled it with warmth. Riddick stood and swept Jack into his arms, lifting her off the floor as he held her tightly.

"It's perfect, Jack," he rumbled, hand clenching tightly around her gift. "Thank you." He could feel her smile against his neck as she wrapped her arms around him, returning his tight embrace. He smelled tears, but knew they were tears of happiness. Leaning slightly away so he could see her face, he set her on the floor and wiped away her tears as they laughed together. Kissing her on the forehand, Riddick hugged her again, trying to communicate how much her gift meant to him. Her answering squeeze told him she knew.

"This is the best birthday ever," Riddick told the young woman in his arms, kissing the top of her head, drawing in her scent, the scent of his pack, the only person in the world who had ever loved him. A feeling of deep peace filled him as they stood together, hearts beating as one.


	2. Being Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's in honor of the snowstorm that is coming my way. Riddick and Jack are living in a small house in an isolated area on a planet with a climate similar to Earth's. Jack's around sixteen or seventeen.

Jack knew something was off when she woke up: sounds were echoing weirdly and her window was almost completely blocked by a white-grey mass. Sliding out of bed, the young woman yelped when her bare feet hit the cold floor. Grabbing the thick black cloak (which may or may not have been Riddick's) off the chair, she wrapped herself up and quietly walked out to the kitchen.

The sight that met her eyes was quite comical: Richard B. Riddick, the most wanted man in the universe, was wearing a thick jacket, a clumsily made scarf (one of Jack's first attempts), a knit wool hat (Jack had gotten better), and was attempting to shove the front door of the house open.

The door, however, was having none of that. The man's considerable muscle bunched and strained with enough strength the snap the neck of a cannibalistic flying predator, yet the door remained mostly unmoved. He had managed to force it open about two inches and Jack could see snow pouring in through the gap. Just then a cold wind whipped through the crack, creating a mini snowstorm in the kitchen and causing Jack to swear, pulling the cloak closer.

"What the hell are you doing, Riddick?" Jack asked, thoroughly unimpressed by this wakeup call. "Close the damn door!"

"It's not like I have much of a choice," Riddick growled, trying one last time to force the door open, before slamming it in disgust. "Fucking storm dropped about six feet on us last night. We're snowed in."

"Great, well, if you're done trying to be macho man, how about some hot chocolate?" Jack asked, smiling slightly at the way Riddick looked, standing there glaring balefully at her with a yellow and pink (it was the only colors she could get her hands on) scarf wrapped around his neck.

Ignoring Riddick's growling, Jack turned around and went back into her room, pulling out her warmest clothing and quickly changing into the fleece-lined jeans and bright red turtleneck. Putting the cloak back on, Jack went back out into the kitchen. She smiled when she saw Riddick boiling the water, but decided not to comment. Poking the bear did not seem like a good idea when the bear was in charge of the firewood. Riddick would let the temperature in the house drop just to spite her, cranky bastard. She knew the cold and pressure brought on by the storm made his joints ache, so she really didn't fault him and tried to stay out of his (metaphorical) hair.

"Here you go, kid," he said, plunking a cup of steaming heaven in front of her. Wrapping her cold hands around the warm mug, Jack smiled up at Riddick gratefully as he poured himself a cup of hot water and rummaged around in the cupboards for the teabags. Jack found it intensely amusing that he was such a snob about his tea. It was Earl Grey or nothing.

"Remember that time we had to fight our way through three different gangs just to get to the tea shop?" Jack asked, taking the first sip of her coco as Riddick joined her at the table. He grinned and nodded.

"The shop owner refused to believe that I just wanted some tea, he kept trying to run me off with a bat," Riddick reminisced, chuckling softly at the memory. Jack smiled. She loved it when he laughed. The deep, rich sound had always made her feel warm and safe, even on the hell planet when he laughed at God's cruelty.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Jack asked, blowing lightly on her hot coco to cool it.

"Well," Riddick replied, taking a long drink of his tea (scalding liquid meant nothing to the hardened convict). "I figure our best bet is to go out one of the windows. We can then dig ourselves around to the front and start trying to shovel –"

"Shovel?" Jack cut him off, setting her cup down and staring at him with raised eyebrows. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We need to get out of here, Jack," Riddick replied, looking at her like she had gone mad. "We can't just sit here snowed in.

"Why not?" Jack challenged, returning his look. "Riddick, even mercs aren't going to be out in this weather. We've been here five months and haven't even caught a sniff of bounty hunters. One day of being snowed in won't kill us. Do you honestly want to go out in that blizzard and dig through six feet of snow?"

"It's gotta be done, kid," Riddick said, standing up from the table and reaching for his jacket. Jack, who was determined to enjoy this day even if it killed her, reacted quickly. Grabbing his arm, she twisted it, just like he had showed her. Ignoring his grunt of surprise, she grabbed the other wrist and, using the scarf lying over the back of his chair, quickly bound his hands behind his back.

She knew that Riddick had let her do it, for if he had really wanted to she would be on the ground with a shiv in her throat right now. But she didn't care. She was going to force him to enjoy this unexpected day off.

"C'mon, you," she said, prodding him towards the living room, keeping a firm grasp on one of his wrists (she knew his penchant for dislocating his shoulders to get free of restraints). "We are going to enjoy this day, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it." Riddick looked over his shoulder at her, unnatural eyes covered by his black welder's goggles. He raised one eyebrow, but Jack merely glared back, giving him another poke in the back.

Smirking, Riddick allowed her to steer him out of the kitchen and into the dim living room, sitting down on the couch at her order. Walking over to the woodstove, Jack put in a few pieces of wood and some kindling, coaxing the glowing coal to a roaring fire. She darted over to entertainment system they had set up. Opening the disk drive, she quickly popped in a movie before walking back to where Riddick still sat, watching her with a titled head.

Standing in front of him, she leaned down and gently slid the goggles up onto his forehead. Mercury eyes stared at her, unreadable, but Jack could tell by the softening of Riddick's face that he was trying to resist smirking at her.

"We are going to watch this movie," Jack told him, looking at him sternly before sitting down beside him. "And then we're going to watch another one. And possibly a third. We are not going to do anything productive all day, and you are not going to complain."

"Are you at least going to untie me?" Riddick asked, his voice rumbling with humor and affection. Jack gave him an I'm-not-an-idiot look.

"You were out of that thing fifteen minutes ago," she replied, snuggling further into the couch cushions. Riddick really did laugh this time, bringing his hands out into the open and tossing the scarf at her, which Jack batted away before pressing the play button.

"Sweeney Todd, Jack, really?" Riddick asked as the opening credits began to roll, looking at her with affectionate exasperation, one eyebrow raised.

"You love it and you know it," Jack retorted, not taking her eyes off the screen. Riddick merely grunted, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and gently tossing it over Jack, who smiled in thanks. Together the pair settled in to watch the movie.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Riddick woke with a start. It took him a moment to realize where he was. The living room was dark. The television had shut off by itself and the fire was burning low. Riddick started to get up to tend to it, but then he felt the warm weight on his chest. Looking down, all he could see was the top of Jack's head. She was curled up against him, fast asleep, blanket draped around them both.

Riddick could feel the slow, steady pulsing of her heart vibrating through his chest. He watched as she breathed deeply, squirming slightly, grabbing onto a fistful of his shirt and turning her face so that it was pressed against his chest. Riddick knew a nightmare was beginning to bother her, he had lived with her long enough to know the signs.

"Easy, kid," he murmured, shifting so he could wrap an arm around her, holding her tightly against him. "Easy. Don't worry, pup, I'm right here. I'm right here and I've got you." He continued to whisper to her until the lines on her face smoothed out and her body lost its tension. She didn't let go of his shirt, however, merely snuggled closer. Riddick looked at her for a moment, surprised by the sudden wave of contentment that rushed through him as he relaxed back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Maybe being snowed in isn't such a bad thing, Riddick thought to himself as he drifted off again, Jack held close and safe, just like it was supposed to be.


	3. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this one Jack is around twenty. Where they're living doesn't really matter, let's just call it Earth in a small house somewhere isolated.

Riddick could hear the faint strains of music echoing from the house as he walked up the walkway, bags of groceries hanging off his arms. He didn't recognize the tune, but it was upbeat and catchy, the kind of stuff that Jack was so fond of. Smiling slightly to himself, he nudged the door open, careful not to jar the eggs (Jack always got so testy when he broke one).

The sight that met his eyes made him stop short. Jack was in the middle of the kitchen, broom in hand, swaying and moving to the beat of the music. As the chorus picked up she spun around, using the broom as her partner, feet moving, hips swaying, and arms tracing graceful patterns in the air.

Riddick set the bags of groceries down silently, then slid his goggles up, taking her in. She was wearing a white cotton tank top and worn jeans with holes in the knees that were cut off at mid-calf. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, though a few strands had come lose and were sticking to her slightly sweaty neck. She should have looked weak and vulnerable and domestic.

But she looked beautiful.

Riddick could see the power in her muscles, the product of hours and hours of training, as she twirled and swayed, bare feet beating out the pulsing rhythm on the floor as she danced, eyes closed. There was such a look of joy on her face that Riddick felt his heart jerk in his chest. He had never seen her look so free and happy. It didn't matter that her clothes were a little worn or that her partner was a pitiful old broom that had probably been around since the Stone Age. The way she glowed made her the most stunning thing Riddick had ever seen.

"Riddick!" The sound of his name shook the convict from his revere. Jack had finally noticed his presence. She grinned at him, leaning on the broom, cheeks still rosy with blood flow.

"Did you have a good trip into town?" she asked, walking over and turning the sound system down. Riddick nodded, lifting up the grocery bags in answer. Jack smiled again and strode over, grabbing half of his load and setting them up on the counter.

"Oooo, chocolate!" she exclaimed, pulling out the thick slab of milk chocolate Riddick had almost had to fight a middle-aged woman for. "You remembered!"

"Of course," Riddick grunted, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sheer joy in her voice at the sight of her favorite treat. "How could I not after you nagging me about it a hundred times a day for the past two weeks?" Jack laughed, leaning towards Riddick and resting her head on his shoulder for a moment while she pumped him affectionately with her hip.

"So, I see you've been having fun while I was out fighting the hordes of hell for our food," Riddick said, smirking at her, humor dancing in his eyes. Jack chuckled, helping him unload the bags and put the food away.

"Are the old ladies hitting you with their canes again?" Jack asked, smiling at the thought of Riddick, a man many say isn't even human, being scolded by a little old grandmother about the size of his arm.

"Hey, those old girls are scary," Riddick replied, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. "They'd make great prison guards. None of the convicts would even toe the line, let alone try to escape. Those canes are deadly weapons."

"Well I'm glad the penal system hasn't caught on to that, or else you wouldn't be here with me," Jack said, the humor in her voice giving way to something much gentler. Riddick looked at her, only to find her looking at him, eyes soft with something that should have terrified him. But before he had a chance to analyze it too much, the music that had been playing on low suddenly changed.

"Hey, this is my favorite song!" Jack exclaimed, reaching for the volume and turning it up so the pulsing beats filled the kitchen. Grinning, she began to move, swaying her hips and letting her feet find the rhythm. Riddick couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he leaned against the counter to watch her.

"Come on, Riddick!" Jack said, spinning and beckoning him, urging him to join her.

"I don't dance, darlin'," Riddick replied, shaking his head and deciding not to think about the fact that he was calling her 'darlin'' now. 'Kid' just didn't fit her anymore, not with the way she was moving her body in long, sinuous waves.

"Like hell you don't," Jack shot back, grabbing his hand and pulling on it gently. "Everyone dances, Riddick. Come on, don't spoil the fun." Riddick tried to refuse again, but the sight of her sparkling eyes looking up at him so hopefully made him groan and acquiesce, letting her pull him away from the counter.

Jack let out an exclamation of triumph as Riddick allowed her to tow him out into the center of the kitchen. Grinning, she grabbed his hand and spun in towards him, effectively wrapping herself up in his arm. Riddick smiled when he felt her warm body press against his. So, she wanted to do it like this, huh? Alright, he'd play her game.

Using their still joined hands, Riddick spun her again, this time outwards. Jack laughed, then raised her eyebrow at him as the music took a harder edge. Eyes still locked with his, Jack began roll her hips, raising her arms and letting the music penetrate her very bones. Sliding closer, Jack lay a hand on Riddick's shoulder, using him to steady herself as she swayed and writhed, never quite touching him with her body, but close enough that he could feel the blood pulsing just beneath the surface of her skin, could smell the sweat rolling off her, a delicious combination of exertion, her unique scent, and just a touch of arousal.

Don't play with fire, Jack, Riddick thought, wrapping one strong arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him, chest to chest. Or else you're going to get burned. Riddick could feel her heart begin to race as he allowed his hips to move with hers, power against grace, The smell of her was all around him, drowning him, making things stir deep down in him that had been dormant for far too long. They were forehead to forehead. Her lips were so close. He could smell the desire rolling off her in waves. She licked her lips. Riddick couldn't resist any more. He just wanted to taste her…

The song changed. Gone were the thrumming beats. A soft, sweet melody floated through the kitchen. Riddick stopped, lips just inches from Jack's. He couldn't do this, not now. He couldn't risk losing the only person who had stuck by his side, who knew exactly what he was and yet still let him into her life, wholly and unconditionally.

Jack drew back, biting her lip, eyes focused on the floor. She had thought for a moment he was going to… But that was stupid. He didn't see her like that. It was the dancing, sometimes people just get carried away. Riddick was her best friend, her family, the only person in the universe who actually cared for her. What more could she ask for.

"Hey," Riddick said, catching her by the upper arm as she went to draw away, his voice rumbling out of his chest much deeper than usual. "I'm not done with you yet." Jack looked at him in askance. Smirking at her confusion, Riddick took her hand, placing his other on her waist, and pulled her back against him.

Jack smiled slightly as she placed her free hand on Riddick's shoulder. They began to move, taking small, simple steps, rotating in a circle. Jack sighed and rested her head against Riddick's chest, letting her eyes close as she relaxed against him. Riddick smiled gently, resting his cheek on the top of Jack's head, arm tightening unconsciously around Jack's slender frame. He closed his eyes and just breathed in her scent. It was the smell of home, of pack, of the only thing that mattered in the world. And no way was he going to let it go.

"Alright, maybe I don't mind dancing so much," Riddick murmured, pressing a kiss to Jack's forehead before he could talk himself out of it. Jack looked up him, a tender expression on her face. She smiled at him, and Riddick felt warmth fill him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, deadly skill wrapped in graceful packaging. He was never, ever going to let her go, no matter what.


	4. School Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little different from the other ones, in this one Jack is living with Imam temporarily because Riddick had to leave due to the fact that mercs were coming after him and he snuck away in the dead of night, leaving Jack behind. Imam is making Jack go to school. Jack is about fourteen.

The school gym was dark, the shadows only enhanced by the various strobe lights and the incredibly tacky disco ball that the student council had strung up. Jack stood on the edge of the mass of students, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched her classmates with a combination of disdain and fascination.

The clothes the girls were wearing made Jack feel like her simple black tank top and jeans were a nun's habit. She had seen brothels that were classier then this. Not to mention the disturbing amount of makeup that was slathered onto the girls' faces. Some of them looked like raccoons, others like a rainbow had blown its load all over their face. How much glitter could one person wear, honestly?

The boys, however, seemed to have no problem with it, judging by their roaming hands and tented pants. Jack could almost smell the teenage hormones in the thick, hot air as her peers thrust and ground against each other, regardless of beat of the song.

Jack was at a complete loss as to why Imam had insisted on her coming tonight. The only thing she could think of was that the holy man had no idea what actually went on at these school functions, seeing as Jack had already spotted three bottles of alcohol and at least four pans of "magic" brownies and it was only about an hour in.

"Jack! Jack, over here!" Jack winced at sound of her name. It was Mary-Anne, one of those obnoxiously friendly girls who had taken it upon herself to make Jack feel "welcome" at the school. Mentally groaning, Jack turned and forced a smile onto her face as the peppy blonde bounced up to her, eyes smeared with colored powder and cheeks dusted with glitter.

"What are doing sulking over here in the shadows, Jack?" Mary-Anne asked, smiling brightly as she clamped onto Jack's arm with surprising strength. "Come dance with us! It's really fun, I promise!"

Jack reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged out onto the crowded floor, trying as hard as she could to avoid brushing up against any of the sweaty forms they passed. At last Mary-Anne was able to break through the last wall of people and Jack found herself surrounded by giggling, wriggling girls.

"Come on, Jack, don't just stand there, dance!" Mary-Anne encouraged, joining her friends in an awkward bouncing, thrusting rhythm that made Jack slightly nauseous just by watching. Sighing, Jack closed her eyes, deciding she might as well have a little fun while she was here.

Jack stood still for a moment, shutting out everything around her except for the music. Breathing deeply, she let the sound pour into her, filling her mind, slowing through her body. When she could feel the beat pulsing her bones, Jack began to dance.

Raising her arms high, she let her hips count out the deep beat, while her feet tapped out the surface rhythm, her arms swaying, fingers running through her hair. She felt a small smile turn up the corners of her lips. She always had loved to dance. It was freeing.

She let go of her higher thinking, allowing the primitive side that still lived in every human to take over. She knew her body, knew how to move her muscles, how to roll her hips and spine in a luxurious wave that was all about grace and sex and power. All these girls who had lived safe, sheltered lives, whose exercise was shopping spree, they knew nothing about dancing.

Jack had been on the run all her life. Her body was the only thing she had ever been able to count on. She knew what it felt like to have adrenaline coursing through her veins as she ran for her life from creatures of the dark, human and animal both. Dancing released that part of her, allowing her to stretch and luxuriate in the fact that she was alive and whole. It was a message to all those around her: I am powerful. I am alive. Do not fuck with me.

However, one individual clearly did not get the message. Jack felt hands close around her waist, breaking her trance and causing her to whip around. A guy several years her senior stood before her, grinning at her in a way that was almost closer to a leer. Jack frowned at him, stepping away and quickly making her way towards the edge of the crowd. She was thirsty and didn't like the way that guy had been looking at her. It reminded her too much of the predatory glances she used to receive from men when she was on orphan on the run, before she had cut her hair and called herself a boy.

She walked over to the punch table, looking hopefully around for some bottled water, or even a fountain. Unfortunately her only option seemed to be the big bowl of radioactive-looking liquid. Ladling herself out a cup, Jack sniffed it hesitantly, then wrinkled her nose in distaste. Alcoholic for sure. Who knows what else the seniors had slipped into the bowl. Jack would rather go thirsty than potentially drink something that would lower her defenses and slow her reflexes.

"Hey," a voice said from behind her. Jack turned around, wary. The guy from earlier was standing a few feet behind her, grinning. Jack sized him up. He was good looking, if you were into the surfer look. His hair was a shade of blond that couldn't be found anywhere outside of a bottle and his eyes were a greenish-brown color. He was tall and muscled, and he knew it. He was smiling, but it reminded Jack of a shark's smile. One thing she knew for sure was that she didn't want this guy any closer to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, making sure that her tone made it very clear that she did not want anything to do with him.

"You're a really good dancer," the guy said, taking a step closer to her, flashing his most charming smile.

"Thanks," Jack said shortly, setting her drink down and turning away, heading towards the bleachers, which is where she had stowed her jacket. Hopefully he'd take the hint and leave her alone.

"Hey, not so fast," the guy called, following her. "I didn't even catch your name."

"None of your business," Jack replied over her shoulder, squaring her shoulders and holding her head up arrogantly. She wasn't going to deal with this shit. She was going home, no matter what Imam had said.

"Now, don't be like that, sweetheart," the guy said, reaching out and grabbing Jack's forearm, forcing her to stop. Jack turned, fury welling up inside of her.

"Let. Me. Go." Jack tried to keep calm, but she could feel the adrenaline beginning warm her veins. If he didn't get his hand off her fucking arm right now, Jack would not be held responsible for what happened next.

"Don't worry, cutie, I'm not gonna hurt you," the guy said, his voice oozing with false sincerity, reaching up to touch her face. Jack jerked away, her left hand curling into a fist.

"If you don't let me go this instance, I will break your nose," Jack said, enunciating every word so the idiot wouldn't misunderstand.

"Oh, spunky, I like that," he said, chuckling, reaching for her hair, grin curling into a leer.

Jack had had enough. Pulling back, she swung with all her might. The sound his nose made when her fist crushed it was beautiful. The shriek of agony that he emitted after that was even better. Shaking off his loosened grip, Jack kicked out at his knee, sending him tumbling to the ground. Then, just to add insult to injury, she slammed her foot down right on his family jewels, making him whimper rather pathetically.

Satisfied, Jack walked away, climbing up the bleachers and grabbing her coat from where she had stored it. Shrugging into it, she walked down the tiers, a spring in her step. All she could think of was that Riddick would have been proud of her if he had seen her. She walked towards the back entrance to the gym, planning to sneak out unobserved and make her way back to Imam's house.

"There's the bitch, get her!" Hands grabbed her before Jack was even able to process the growled command. She twisted and writhed, trying to shake her attackers off and wiggle lose, but there were too many of them. One hit her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her, while another backhanded her across the face, stunning her.

The blood-covered face of the guy whose nose she had broken swam into view, his beauty soured by the malignant expression twisting his features. Clearly he had rounded up some buddies and was intent on getting his revenge.

"You should have just played nice, little bitch," he snarled, grabbing her face and jerking her head up. "Now you're going to be our whore." With that he kissed her, bruising and bloody. Jack struggled, trying to get away, before sinking her teeth into the slimy tongue he had just thrust into her mouth. Her attacker pulled back with a cry of outrage, blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

"You're going to pay for that, bitch," he said, raising his hand, clearly intent on backhanding her again. But a strong, tanned hand grabbed his wrist, wrenching his arm backwards before the blow could descend.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The warning was low, but the speaker's voice growled with rage. Jack bared her teeth in a gleeful grin. She knew that voice. Riddick moved into the faint light cast by the exit sign. His goggles were off, allowing his eyes to glow like molten mercury in the darkness. His gaze was as unreadable as ever, his face almost pleasant, but Jack could feel the pure fury radiating off him. Her captors obviously could as well, for they quickly released her, shrinking away from the raw, animalistic power suddenly in their midst.

"Hey Jack," Riddick said, grinning at her. Jack returned the smile, her chest filled with warmth. He was back. Just like she had told Imam, he had come back.

"Hey, Riddick," she replied, walking over to him and, after kicking her attacker in his already in his already injured knee, which caused him to collapse to the ground with a shriek of agony, wrapped one arm around the convict's waist in a half-hug. Riddick chuckled, draping his arm over her shoulders.

"You okay, pup?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the three guys who were standing before him, watching their leader thrash around on the floor in horror.

"Yeah, I'm good," Jack replied, shrugging, ignoring the black eye she knew was forming.

"You ready to get the hell out of here?" Riddick asked, glancing down at her, a knowing gleam in his eye.

"You have no idea," Jack said, her whole body relaxing as she breathed out a sigh of relief. Riddick was back. And he was going to take her with him this time. Her pack had finally returned.

"Alright, you go on, I just need to finish up," Riddick said, giving her a gentle push towards the exit. Jack walked a few feet then stopped, turning back around to watch, arms crossed.

"Alright, listen up," Riddick said, reaching down and hauling the youth who had been lying at his feet up by his neck. He held him up so that his feet were an inch off the ground. "You're obviously an idiot and need to be educated. If a girl says no, you walk away. Simple as that. If you don't, she will either thoroughly thrash your ass, like gorgeous Jack here, or have one of her older brothers do so. No girl doesn't have any older brothers, blood or not. Just remember that. And count yourself lucky that I've got both mercs and police on my ass right now, or else I would break every single bone in your body. That clear?" The guy, who was clearly terrified, just whimpered, nodding his head vigorously.

"Good," Riddick said cheerily, smiling as he threw the kid against the wall with enough force that Jack could hear his skull crunch against the hard stone.

"Come on, kid, let's blow this town," Riddick said, smiling down at Jack as he slung an arm around her thin shoulders. Jack grinned back up at him, pressing close to his warm and comforting bulk.

"You know, I've decided I really hate school dances," Jack said as Riddick kicked the back door open. Riddick just chuckled.

"I don't know, I kind of like them," he said, grinning as the pair stepped out into the night. "Not often I get an excuse to terrorize rich little asswipes."

"Like you need an excuse," Jack replied, shooting him an affectionately look. Riddick just laughed, shrugging. Jack laughed as well wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning against him in thanks. Riddick squeezed her shoulders in response, looking at her with an expression that could almost be called tender. Suddenly an alarm went off in the school. Riddick looked back and saw the blue lights of the police.

"Shit," he swore, pulling away and grabbing Jack's hand. "Time to go, kid. Let's see if you've been keeping up with your training since I've been gone." Laughing out loud, Jack took off running, adrenaline racing through her veins.

Oh how I've missed this, Jack thought as the pair took off running into the night, hands held fast by a bond no one could ever understand: the bond of pack.


End file.
